


Shot Through the Heart

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, I Don't Even Know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 06:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plus, their last vacation had been their honeymoon over two years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shot Through the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> So this is either incredibly fun or incredibly ridiculous, I'm not entirely sure which. Much love to **hardrightturn** for suggesting that, even though the idea didn't work for what I originally planned, it still deserved to be written and for providing a line or two of dialogue :) 
> 
> Title taken from Bon Jovi's _You Give Love a Bad Name_

Stretching, she rubs her lower back, kicks loose the blankets on the bed as she reaches for her glasses and the master list of panels she’d made the day before. 

San Diego Comic-con was harder on the body than anyone had warned her.

And she’d had her share of conversations about it with online friends, and, in the past several months, with Oliver. 

Though he had no firsthand experience and she’d spent those months lobbying that they should attend, pointing out all the different experiences—panels, book signings, celebrity run-ins—they could enjoy. 

Plus, their last vacation had been their honeymoon over two years ago. 

He’d eventually agreed, partially because he knew he was fighting a losing battle and partially because wanted to make her as happy as possible. 

Now that they’re here though—she scoots up the bed, taking a stack of papers with her—he seems to be even more into it than she is.

They’d spent the previous day on the floor and then at the _Orphan Black_ panel and he’d loved it. Had talked about it all through dinner and even some was they stretched out on the couch, watching the Dodgers game, his hands curving against her. 

The water shuts off in the bathroom and she turns on her hip, still intent on making a plan for the coming day as the door slides open. 

“I’d like to see if I can catch Whedon, but that might conflict with _Doctor_ —” 

Her lips press together as she looks up and finds him standing in the doorway, towel cinched around his waist, hand rubbing the the back of his head, tiny drops of water clinging to his shoulders. 

Arching an eyebrow, he grins, leaning forward to grab their credentials from the pile of papers on the bed. “Hey, I wonder if we can still get a good spot in line for the _Elementary_ panel tonight.” 

“If you go looking like that, I’m sure we can.” 

He laughs, turning to the small dresser next to him. “I didn’t know you were ok with sharing.” 

“Who said anything about sharing?” She swings out of bed, hand pressing against his chest. “I just know how to use my resources to my advantage.”

“I’ll say.” He kisses her and pulls on his shirt before moving to the other side of the room, giving her space to sort out what they need to take with them and what can stay behind. 

“Don’t need the list from yesterday, this one goes though, and we better take the map...” She arranges the papers accordingly, grabbing her bag from its spot by the dresser and— 

“What are you doing?!” 

“Hmm?” He turns from the closet, leather pants in hand, excitement dancing in his eyes. 

“What... why... why are you holding your leathers?” 

“I thought I might dress up today; give you an excuse to use the Catwoman suit I know you brought.” 

“First of all, we won’t match—” 

“Well, I’m not impersonating Bruce, that’s for sure. A fucking cape, how practical can that be?” 

“Secondly, THIS IS GOING TO BE A DISASTER!” 

He’s about to comment on the loud voice, the way her eyes go all blazing and warm when she gets like this, how he just wants to take her back to bed already, when she crosses the room, practically hip checking him out of the way. 

Her annoyance is almost palpable yet he honestly can’t understand why she thinks it’s _such_ a bad idea and—

“Your actual gear, Oliver?” 

She pulls his quiver from the closet, the sleeve of her pajama top sliding down her shoulder as she spins in place. 

“Well, why not? Plenty of people dress up and there was that year Bryan Cranston walked the floor—”

“BRYAN DOESN’T HAVE THOSE ABS!” She roughly sets the gear down, closes the little gap of space between them. “People are going to know you’re not just a comic fan.” 

“Stereotyping, Miss Smoak, I’m disappointed.” 

“Mrs. Smoak-Queen and I just—”     

“I know.” He smiles, threading his hand through her hair and covering her mouth with his. “Can I at least wear the pants if I promise to leave everything else here?” 

“Fine, but we better come up fake info, maybe throw up a fake website, to give people who ask where you got them and—” She rocks up on her toes, lips pressing roughly to his throat as she grabs her Ravenclaw dress from the hanger behind him. “Be prepared for me to defend that ass vigilantly.” 

Picking up the credential he left hanging on the doorknob, he drapes it over her head, tugging her forward and kissing the corner of her mouth. “Looking forward to it.”


End file.
